Disillusions
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: "Mr Crouch really needs to be aware of how he treats me, one day my tongue might just slip," Luna said softly as Barty's tongue slid into her ear.


**A.N****: I fucking love Crack. **

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"Give it up and let me have my way," he hissed in Luna's ear, as she stared blankly at the empty space in front of her.

Luna muttered a spell under her breath calmly and what appeared to be a sphere-shaped shield erupted around her, sending Barty flying off the bed and to the opposite end of the room of requirement.

Yes, the room of requirement. It wasn't the first time Mad-Eye Moody had requested Luna Lovegood take herself to the room, to think of somewhere that she would be well-hidden, somewhere no-one would think of finding her.

And Barty just had to think of a place Luna Lovegood would think of.

There wasn't a fitting reason to describe what attracted Barty to the equisite, strange, unusual Luna. Her mass of dirty blonde, slightly crimped hair hanging around her shoulders from where he'd pulled it out of it's elastic band. She should be frightened, afraid, scared. But even on the first day Barty had revealed himself to her, she had stayed calm, quiet, unnerved. Her watchful gaze just stared him down reproachfully.

That wasn't right. Barty had frowned. But he couldn't deny that she continued to turn him on just by sitting there silently, even though he would prefer for her to scream and shout and cry. It was so much more arousing if she were to fight him.

Not that she didn't fight him, she did. With words and occasionally disarming spells that wouldn't hurt him. It was entirely mentally affecting.

He crawled back up onto the high bed and pushed her onto her back, smirking as she struggled to attain her composture after being so brutally shoved backwards from her cross-legged sitting position.

"Mr Crouch really needs to be aware of how he treats me, one day my tongue might just slip," Luna said softly as Barty's tongue slid into her ear.

"You wouldn't dare," he growled into her skin.

"Mr Crouch should really know by now that I'm not afraid of him."

"_Why_ are you not afraid?" He hissed. "You're a fourth year student, and I'm older than you, I've seen and done things even your worst nightmares couldn't imagine."

Luna blinked at the ceiling, where her gaze stayed, not once looking at her perpetrator.

"I'm not afraid, because if Mr Crouch was such a big bad man, he wouldn't come looking for the comfort of young girls."

"Maybe Mr Crouch is just after what you've got to offer," Barty muttered, his hands suddenly yanking the waistband of her skirt threateningly, the force of which caused her to rise from the mattress slightly and slam back into it just as quickly. "Maybe Mr Crouch just _likes _younger girls."

The idea of being pedophilic and perverted. That should get Luna's mind into a feared frenzy.

"I don't think so." Annoyingly, she didn't seem fazed.

"Why?" Barty hooked his arms under her upper chest, bringing them all the more closer, his face hovering above hers.

Luna smirked. It made Barty snarl angrily. _He _should be the one smirking, and she should be the one writhing in horror and disgust underneath him. Instead she just laid there and accepted his embrace like they were naturally lovers. Her fingers even played at the front of his shirt, most likely acting up for the game that Barty almost always led. "Because if Mr Crouch just liked what I had to offer, he would just rape me and leave me. The fact that Mr Crouch insists on talking and fondling and trying to intervene with my innermost thoughts must mean that Mr Crouch is more interested in _me_, rather than what I display. Furthermore people are almost never interested in what _I have to offer_, as I am not most remarkably pretty or the usual choice for a mans taste in fancy, and I am incoherently _weird_. Mr Crouch is also incoherently weird, I have noticed. I believe that's what attracts Mr Crouch to someone like me." And Luna ended her speech with a flourish of a bright smile.

Urgh...how annoying.

Barty obviously had not realised she was cleverer than she looked. Clever enough to find that fitting reason.

She cleared her throat, and Barty looked back down at her. She seemed...comfortable, to say the most. Her mass of thick blonde hair was splayed around her head and shoulders, her greenish eyes now settled on him. "Also, I think, if Mr Crouch is looking for someone submissive who is going to give him what he wants, he should start looking elsewhere, as he should know by now that he is not in charge."

"What?" Barty glared back down at her, trying to mask his confusion. What was she rattling on about now? Hell, if she would just shut her pretty little mouth and stop talking...

He leaned down and covered her mouth with his, eyes falling closed almost instantly. It was inevitable that she was like a drug to him.

A sharp jabbing in his neck brought him back to his senses, and he snatched the wand out of her hand quickly.

"What do you think you're doing? We finished playing block-my-spell ten minutes ago," he muttered, genuinley irratated now.

"Mr Crouch should really start to learn some manners," she replied, her legs winding around his waist, pressing her lower body against his. He gritted his teeth and buried his face into the sheets beside her.

_He should know by now that he is not in charge_.

Barty opened his eyes, his forehead wrinkling.

She wasn't lying.

"Don't leave me waiting," she shouted suddenly. "I don't come from the other side of the castle every single night for nothing!"

Why had this seemed so normal every other night?

Barty growled and flattened his hands against her stomach, rolling up her shirt and smoothing his palms over the expanse of creamy skin. She whined in approval, shuddering when his fingertips gripped at her sides.

-pagebreak-

And an hour later, when Barty was returning to his natural state with the assistance of a cigarette, he mulled over the days, the weeks, the months that he'd been engaging in physical contact with Luna. He'd known after the first night that she wasn't submissive, and that she wasn't afraid of him. But during sexual contact he lost all train of thought, all mental stability. Only now had he realised that the sweet nothings innocent, tolerant Luna Lovegood whispered into his ear were really the dirty, filth-laden hisses, driving him, leading him, taking over him.

Smirking over his cancer-stick, he rolled his eyes.

She was always in charge.

And he hadn't realised just how much he _loved _it.


End file.
